Before the morning mist had even cleared, Ye Fan had already brought Lin Zhaoyue to knock on the twig gate of Uncle Wáng's house at the east end of the village. Uncle Wáng was squatting in the corner of the courtyard chopping firewood, his axe raised high before freezing mid-air. His clouded eyeballs rolled, and suddenly he slammed the axe down onto the ground: "Young Master of the Ye Family, about what happened last night, this old bag of bones really didn't want to say—" Before he could finish, a cough came from the inner room, and Aunt Wáng lifted the door curtain and poked her head out: "Old man, the porridge on the stove is about to boil over!"
Lin Zhaoyue stepped half a step forward, the fragrance of cold plum blossoms from her sleeve drifting into the courtyard mixed with the morning dew. "Uncle Wáng, we are here to investigate the old case of Hanmei Pavilion." Her fingertips gently tapped the jade plaque at her waist, the cloud patterns of the Cangwu Sword Sect gleaming coldly in the mist. "If you have any clues, my Sword Sect will naturally protect you all."
Uncle Wáng's hand trembled, and the axe dropped to the ground with a clatter. Rubbing his hands stained with wood shavings, his voice suddenly dropped extremely low: "Starting half a month ago, some strangers in blue cloth tunics kept coming to the village. At night, they crouched under the old locust tree, poking the soil with small trowels, as if looking for something. The night before last, when I got up in …
Chapter 62